Chapter 3
three
. . .
Hannah
I wake up smiling. My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I reach for it, still half-asleep.
Bennett: Good morning, beautiful. Sleep well?
Butterflies erupt in my stomach, and I'm grinning like an idiot at my phone screen. I type back quickly, trying not to overthink it.
Me: Better than I have in weeks. You?
Bennett: Barely slept. Kept thinking about yesterday.
Me: The tacos were that good?
Bennett: The company was better.
I bite my lip, heat creeping up my neck. God, he's smooth. And sweet. And I have no idea how to handle any of this.
Me: Flatterer.
Bennett: Just honest. What time do you work today?
Me: 7 to 2. The usual.
Bennett: I'll be there at 8:15.
Me: For coffee?
Bennett: For you. But I'll take the coffee too.
I'm still smiling when I drag myself out of bed and into the shower. The hot water feels amazing, and I let myself replay yesterday, the way he laughed when I spilled coffee on him, the way he looked at me like I was the only person in the world, the way his lips felt against mine.
I get dressed quickly, pulling on jeans and my Brewed Awakening t-shirt, and head to work. The morning is crisp and cool, and I walk the three blocks to the coffee shop with my hands shoved in my jacket pockets, still thinking about Bennett.
This is insane.
I barely know him.
But it doesn't feel that way. It feels like I've known him forever.
The shop is already busy when I arrive, and Mara is behind the counter looking frazzled. "Thank God you're here," she says. "We've been slammed since we opened."
"Sorry, sorry." I tie my apron on and jump in, taking orders and making drinks on autopilot. But every few minutes, I glance at the clock.
7:30.
7:45.
8:00.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out quickly.
Bennett: On my way. Miss me yet?
Me: Maybe a little.
Bennett: Just a little?
Me: Okay, a lot. Happy?
Bennett: Very.
I'm still grinning when the door chimes at exactly 8:15, and Bennett walks in.
He's wearing another perfectly tailored suit, this one charcoal gray, and his hair is slightly damp like he just got out of the shower.
When his eyes find mine, he smiles, and my heart does that stupid flipping thing again.
"Morning," he says, walking up to the counter.
"Morning. The usual?"
"Please."
I make his coffee, hyper-aware of the way he's watching me. When I hand it to him, our fingers brush, and the contact sends a jolt straight through me.
"Thank you," he says, his voice low.
"You're welcome."
He doesn't leave. He just stands there, looking at me like he's trying to memorize my face. "Still on for tonight?"
"Yes."
"Good." He takes a sip of his coffee, then leans in slightly. "I've been thinking about you all morning."
My cheeks flush. "Bennett."
"What? It's true."
"You're going to make me mess up someone's order."
He grins. "Then I should probably go. But I'll see you tonight. Seven?"
"Seven."
He leaves, and I stand there for a second, trying to catch my breath. Mara appears beside me, eyebrows raised. "Okay, who is that and why does he look at you like you hung the moon?"
"That's Bennett."
"The guy you spilled coffee on yesterday?"
"Yeah."
"And you're going out with him tonight?"
"Yeah."
She grins. "Good for you. He's hot."
"I know."
The rest of my shift passes in a blur. Bennett texts me every hour, little messages that make me smile and blush and forget what I'm doing.
Bennett: Thinking about you.
Me: You're supposed to be working.
Bennett: I am working. I'm just also thinking about you.
Me: Multitasking. Impressive.
Bennett: I'm a man of many talents.
Me: I'm starting to see that.
By the time 2:00 rolls around, I'm practically vibrating with anticipation. I clock out, say goodbye to Mara, and head home to get ready.
I stand in front of my closet for twenty minutes, trying to figure out what to wear. He said dinner, but he didn't say where. What if it's somewhere fancy? What if I show up underdressed and everyone stares at me?
I finally settle on a simple black dress that hits just above my knees and a pair of heels I only wear for special occasions. I curl my hair, put on more makeup than I usually wear, and stare at myself in the mirror.
You can do this.
It's just dinner.
Except it's not just dinner. It's dinner with Bennett, and I already know this is going to be something more than I'm ready for.
My phone buzzes.
Bennett: On my way. Can't wait to see you.
Me: Me too.
I pace my apartment for the next ten minutes, checking my reflection in every reflective surface I pass. When there's a knock on my door at exactly 7:00, my heart jumps into my throat.
I open the door, and Bennett is standing there in a dark blue suit, no tie, the top button of his shirt undone. He looks unfairly good, and when his eyes sweep over me, something hot and intense flashes in them.
"Hi," I say, my voice coming out breathless.
"Hi." He's staring at me like he forgot how to speak. "You look... wow."
"Good wow or bad wow?"
"The best wow." He steps closer, and I catch the scent of his cologne, something clean and woodsy that makes me want to lean in. "You're stunning, Hannah."
My cheeks heat. "Thank you. You look pretty good yourself."
He grins. "Ready?"
"Yeah. Let me just grab my purse."
I lock the door behind me, and he offers me his arm. I take it, and we walk down to his car, a sleek black sedan that probably costs more than I make in a year.
He opens the passenger door for me, and I slide in, trying not to feel intimidated by the leather interior and the dashboard that looks like it belongs in a spaceship.
Bennett gets in beside me and starts the engine. "Nervous?"
"A little."
"Don't be. It's just dinner."
"Where are we going?"
"You'll see."
I glance at him. "You like being mysterious, don't you?"
"Maybe a little."
We drive through town, and I watch the buildings pass by, trying to calm my racing heart. When he pulls up in front of a restaurant called Bella Notte, I recognize it immediately.
I've walked past this place a hundred times.
It's a beautiful Italian restaurant tucked between the bookstore and the art gallery, with warm light spilling from the windows and ivy climbing the brick exterior.
I've always thought it looked romantic, the kind of place where couples celebrate anniversaries or special occasions.
"Bennett," I say slowly. "This is..."
"Too much?"
"No, it's just, I feel underdressed." I glance down at my black dress, suddenly self-conscious. "Everyone in there probably looks so put together."
He turns to look at me, his expression softening. "You look perfect. But if you're uncomfortable, we can go somewhere else."
"No, I want to go. I just..." I trail off, not sure how to explain the flutter of nerves in my stomach.
"Then let's go." He gets out and comes around to open my door, offering me his hand. I take it, and he helps me out of the car, his grip warm and steady.
Inside, the restaurant is even more beautiful than I imagined.
Exposed brick walls, candlelight flickering on every table, the scent of garlic and fresh bread filling the air.
It's intimate without being stuffy, warm without being overwhelming.
The hostess greets us with a genuine smile and leads us to a table by the window.
I glance around as we walk, noticing the other diners. They're dressed nicely, but not intimidatingly so, some in dresses like mine, others in jeans and button-downs. It feels accessible. Real.
Bennett pulls out my chair, and I sit, trying to relax.
"You okay?" he asks once we're settled.
"Yeah. This place is beautiful."
"It's family-owned. The Morettis have been running it for thirty years." He picks up his menu, then glances at me with a small smile. "Richard told me I should take you somewhere fancier. One of those places with the prix fixe menus and the sommelier."
I laugh despite my nerves. "That sounds terrifying."
"That's what I thought." His smile widens. "So I brought you here instead. They make the best homemade fettuccine in town, and I figured you'd actually enjoy the food instead of spending the whole night worried about which fork to use."
"Thank you," I say softly.
"For what?"
"For not taking Richard's advice."
He reaches across the table and takes my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. The simple touch grounds me, easing the last of my nerves.
"I'm glad you're here," he says.
"Me too."
The waiter appears, introducing himself and walking us through the menu. Everything has descriptions, pasta dishes, seafood, chicken. The prices are listed clearly. Nothing feels out of reach.
Bennett orders a bottle of wine, and the waiter disappears.
I open my menu, scanning the options. "This all sounds amazing."
"It is. I've been coming here for years." He leans back, still holding my hand. "But I have to admit, it feels different tonight."
"Different how?"
"Better." His eyes lock on mine. "Because you're here."
My breath catches, and I feel my cheeks heat again.
"Something embarrassing. I'll go first." He leans back, still holding my hand. "When I was in law school, I had to give a presentation in front of the entire class. I was so nervous that I tripped walking up to the podium and spilled my coffee all over the professor's desk."
I laugh despite myself. "You did not."
"I did. It was a disaster. The professor just stared at me, and I stood there like an idiot trying to mop it up with my tie."
"Your tie?"
"It was the only thing I had. And it was my favorite tie. Ruined."
I'm smiling now, the tension in my chest easing. "That's terrible."
"It gets worse. I was so flustered that I forgot half my presentation. I just stood there stammering for five minutes until the professor told me to sit down."
"Oh my God."
"Yeah. Not my finest moment." He grins. "Your turn."
I think for a second, then say, "When I was sixteen, I had a huge crush on this guy in my class. I wrote him a note telling him I liked him and slipped it into his locker. Except I put it in the wrong locker."
Bennett laughs. "No."